


That One Time When Dean Won at Rock, Paper, Scissors (and Sam was a little bitch about it)

by Nina36



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Not Underage, Oral Sex, Pre series, Sam In Panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina36/pseuds/Nina36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam could be a little bitch sometimes. Wait. He always was. He could have graduated with honors, could throw knives like he was born to do it. But he was a little bitch. A little kinky bitch who was a sore loser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Time When Dean Won at Rock, Paper, Scissors (and Sam was a little bitch about it)

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: wincest preseries it’s not usually my thing: I have a headcanon and I usually stick to it while writing, but I saw this prompt/thingy on the wincest tag on tumblr and I really, really couldn’t resist!  
> Word Count: 2326 words
> 
> crankywhenprovoked  
> Sam wearing panties when John is around, giving Dean small peeks when their dad looks away, driving Dean up a wall, until Dean can’t take anymore and pull Sam into an ally outside a bar where their dad’s inside still drinking and pushing Sam down to his knees.
> 
> a/n: ETA to correct a mess with tenses in a paragraph

 

 Sam could be a little bitch sometimes. Wait. He always was. He could have graduated with honors, could throw knives like he was born to do it. But he was a little bitch. A little _kinky_ bitch who was a sore loser.

He loved the kid…hell, he was head over heels in love with the kid, but…Sam was trying to kill him. Really…he was!

It had all started innocently enough. For once he wasn’t even thinking with his dick, which had been proving more and more difficult ever since Sam had turned eighteen, crawled in his bed and told him to shut up and stop making excuses and “Will you kiss me already?”

He had just reminded Sam that it was his turn doing laundry…and for some reason it had snowballed from there. Granted he might have been a dick in some moments and _yes_ , he admitted that saying, “Gee, Sammy, if I had known it was that time of the month I wouldn’t have talked.”

And _yes_ , he had also kind of smirked  at Sam as he missed the shirt  - and boy, did it stink to high heaven! -  his brother had thrown at him.

It had been Sammy, in the end,  who had insisted on it, and decided to solve things their way – because Sammy was like a dog with a bone and had decided that reading some dead Russian dude’s novel was way more important than doing laundry - his body dangerously close to his, his eyes fixed on his.

Rock, paper, scissors. It was how they solved stuff, it was the rule. And it was _not_ Dean’s fault if he had won.

Really! He could count on one hand the number of times it had happened…and of course Sam had taken it as a personal insult!

Sammy had sulked, of course he had, apparently getting laid on a regular basis wasn’t improving his mood in the least!, and in the end Sammy had taken the duffle bag, scrunching up his nose, grabbed the tome he had been reading  - seriously, dead Russian guys had way too much time on their hands! – and left.

Mission accomplished, same shit different day, right? Ah!

That had been three days before, and Dean? He was a moron! He should have known! Because Sam… _Sammy_ , his little brother, the light of his eyes, knew how to take the words, “Payback is a bitch” to heart.

And apparently, payback for Sammy involved strutting around, giving blow jobs to popsicles while giving him _that_ look, and oh…right, wearing _panties._

Female panties.

Payback was black, pink, white laced panties.

He sighed. Well…Sam wasn’t _exactly_ wearing those things. Oh, no…the little shit was showing those garments off. Wherever. He. Could. Knowing what it did to Dean.

And as if that wasn’t enough, his little devious Sammy Winchester was flaunting his little lacey vendetta whenever their dad turned his back at them.

And since Dean’s life sucked ass, and not in the kinky-make-Sam-scream-and-come-untouched- way; dad had parked his ass in Bumfuck, nowhere, and wasn’t showing any sign of wanting to leave.

Which meant no sex.

And sure, he could go to a bar, pick up some chick and be done with it…he could, really. Except …

Except that he didn’t want to. Because he couldn’t be just fucked up. Oh, no…he was Dean Winchester, _hence_ he was royally fucked up!

He was monogamous! Even if Sammy was being a little bitch, he knew he’d be hurt if he went and fucked some random chick. And hurting Sam, for real, was as likely for him as growing wings. So yeah…royally fucked up!

And horny!

And Sam kept smiling and sporting a perfect look of innocence in his eyes while letting him peak at the black panties he was currently wearing.

He hated his life!

***

It had been little things the first day. Sam had padded into the their little kitchen, with tousled hair, loose sweatpants, a rumpled t-shirt, barefoot.

“What time did dad come back last night?” He had asked, sitting and accepting the coffee Dean had given him.

“Around 2, he’s fine by the way” Dean had replied.

Sam had nodded, had rested his back against the chair and spread his legs…and Dean’s mouth had started to water, like some kind of Pavlovian reflex. He could see himself kneeling between Sam’s legs, mouthing at Sam’s cock through the fabric of his sweatpants. God, he was so very screwed!

Sam’s long fingers went to scratch at his stomach absentmindedly as he sipped his coffee and then he moved his shirt up …

Holy mother of…

Lace…lace panties, pale pink caressing Sam’s trim hips. Dean swallowed, his throat suddenly dry – yes, Sam had that power over him – while Sam kept sipping his coffee, his adam apple bobbing, tilting his head back, his eyes closed, exposing the long column of his neck.

He had opened his mouth to say something, anything…starting with, “Sammy, can I rip those panties off with my teeth?”

And the bitch of it was that if their dad hadn’t chosen that exact moment to enter the kitchen, making his best impression of a coffee addicted grizzly bear he probably would have.  In a flash, Sam was sporting his best bitchface while greeting their dad.

 Their father muttered some request and Dean automatically said, “Yes, sir” ignoring the disappointment in Sam’s face, ignoring the throbbing between his legs, but acutely aware of the fact that Sam was still showing him the lace of his panties.

_Crap…_

***

He should have known…and above all he should have predicted it, knowing Sam. Things went from kinky, to very kinky to downright fucked up to hell as the hours went by.

And that was only the _first_ day…and with their dad in the house, their rule – one that, to be fair, he had imposed in the first place – of no touching was firmly in place.

It had only got worse the day after: glimpses of lace and skin wherever their dad turned his back, Sam pushing all his buttons while feigning innocence and Dean wanted to hit, hump, fuck or kill something.

Even jerking off didn’t really satisfy him, even though he replayed Sam’s movements, the way he taunted him, touched his own body, flaunted the skimpy garments and generally acted like his mission in life was to taunt the crap out of him. Or making him die of blue balls.

They trained, they did research, they did all the things they usually did and Dean couldn’t help but letting the guard down around Sam, and that’s when Sam went and shocked him, like in that precise moment.

He couldn’t honestly say how did it happen, how they had ended up in the alley in the back of the bar, while their dad was in the bar, drinking.

He couldn’t even say when Sam had dropped to his knees, he didn’t even clearly remember how and when they had gotten there.

~ _Their bodies pressed close, impossibly so, Sam fresh from his shower, skin warm and pink, his nipples little hard buds, and then Sam’s breath ghosting on his jaw as he whispered, hot and dirty, “Too bad we can’t…otherwise you could, like, fuck me while I still keep these on, move ‘em out of the way…I wanted so bad to ride your cock”_ ~

Sam’s eyes were bright, almost feverish, the lights of reddish and green neons bathed the alleyway and Sam’s face. Dean licked his lips and Sam did the same, his hands gripping his hips and Dean had troubles breathing over the thundering of his heart in his chest and the rush of blood to his ears.

~ _First off…how…when had Sammy learned to talk like that? His little doe eyes brother talking hot and dirty in his ear while he could peek at the white lace of his panties. And hearing his little brother – emphasis on little and brother – talking like that was supposed to be a boner killer, instead all his blood had rushed south, so much that he was feeling dizzy and fuck,  he had gone from normal to rock hard in a second, his erection straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans._ ~

He vaguely recalled grabbing Sam’s arm and dragging him away after he had rubbed against his groin when they had met outside the bathroom of the bar. And now Sam was on his knees, and his fingers were trailing on his thighs, and he noticed his hands were shaking as he  unfastened the buttons of his jeans.

~ _Sam chuckled, and that sound wasn’t supposed to sound that dirty, he felt his knuckles brush against the bulge in his jeans and then a swipe of his tongue against the pulse point in his neck and Dean had had the time to brush his fingers against that white lacey thing before their dad’s voice made him jump backwards, his back hitting the wall, Sam the picture of perfect innocence, except for the color high on his cheeks and at the center of his chest,  giveaways of the fact that he wasn’t totally unaffected by his little porny exploit._ ~

Dean’s fingers trailed through Sam’s hair, it was soft and too long and Dean had missed trailing his fingers through it. He hissed when Sam’s hand freed his cock, circling it in a tight fist.

He shook his head and almost growled, “Open up!”  

 ~ _“I gotta go…” He said, clenching his jaws and absolutely resisting the urge to palm his throbbing cock. He would not give Sam that satisfaction._

 _“Yeah, you do” Sam replied and his voice was apparently directly connected to his pleasure nerves because it made his cock twitch._ ~

The lust in Sam’s eyes, the hunger for _him_  was like a shock to his system; zeroing everything else that wasn’t Sam, his thumbs digging in the hollow of his hips, and his hot mouth wrapping around  the head of his cock.

Sammy wasn’t teasing any more, he wasn’t taunting, he meant serious business now: perfect suction and tongue lapping and licking, bobbing his head up and down, taking him deeper and deeper…and Dean was short-circuiting because here they were, in the back alley of the bar, with their father inside, and all he could think of was that he wanted to fuck Sam’s mouth and he didn’t care who saw them. Sam hummed and Dean flailed his hands, slamming his hand on the wall behind him, trying not to jerk his hips too roughly, because it was Sam…even though Sammy was trying his damnest to drive him crazy and make him lose control. And a small part of his brain, the one that wasn’t being sucked off by Sam through his dick in an alleyway wondered when and where his brother had learned to do those things with his tongue, but even that smidge of rationality eclipsed when he felt Sam’s throat flutter around his cock’s head.

“Fuck!” he sworn, tilting his head down, unable to stop his movements, when he saw Sam’s lips stretched around him, felt his brother’s pointy nose pressed against his crotch and saw…God, and here he was thinking it couldn’t get any dirtier and hotter, Sam’s unfastened jeans, the lace of his panties pushed aside and Sam jerking himself off, hard and fast, in synch with him, with the movements of his hips.

He didn’t want it to end, but he was strung up too tight, days of teasing and forced celibacy and Sam…Sam everywhere, in his mind, wrapped around him, body and soul and his heart was going crazy, beating furiously against his ribcage, sweat pooling on his temples and trailing down his back and Sam didn’t seem tired, he kept going, making sounds that he would tease him mercilessly for in other contexts but that right then, only made everything hotter and Dean couldn’t help touching Sam’s face, cradling it in his hands, not keeping him still, but wanting to feel his brother, the softness of his hair, how feverish hot his skin was against his fingers.

He was close, so close, and Sam must have sensed it, because he applied even more suction and then he felt his hot hand, the same one who he had been jerking himself off with cupping his balls, massaging them softly and he lost it, had to bit down on his own hand not to cry out Sammy’s name as he came, the world whiting out at the edges, his cock twitching almost painfully as Sam kept swallowing and hollowing his cheeks, milking him through his orgasm…and his own.

Sam shuddered, while panting against his thigh, his hot breath ghosting over his oversensitive skin and Dean had to close his eyes, grateful the wall was keeping him up, while the smell of Sam’s pleasure hit him, salty and familiar.

Sam looked up at him, wide eyes, fucked lips and a shit eating grin on his face as he slowly got up and tilted a hand toward his, dangerously close to his lips and Dean…? He licked Sam’s hand, sucked his fingers, one after the other, their tastes mingled on his lips and tongue while his brother tucked both of them in

Crap…he was so fucking screwed! But what else was new?

 

 ~the end

 

 


End file.
